


My Heart's A Tart, Your Body's Rent

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fate & Destiny, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Self-Hatred, Sex Magic, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My body's broken, yours is bent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart's A Tart, Your Body's Rent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sksdwrld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/gifts).



> Written for the [Porn Battle](http://battle.oxoniensis.org/) prompts _Merlin/Mordred, magic, telepathy, guilt, [any]_ and _Mordred/Any Male(s), prostitute._ and M's [Comment Fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com) prompt of Every You, Every Me although in all honestly, this was titled before that because we seem to share a mind.
> 
> This is a Canon AU set just before the start of Series 5 with mentions of Mordred/Others, past Merlin/Arthur and Merlin/Others.
> 
> Title and summary from [Every You Every Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMaycNcPsHI) by Placebo.

Merlin found the boy in a brothel on the Northern borders. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, it was cold sleeping in Druid camps and bedwarming was a lucrative trade. Merlin shivered to think that he could have ended up that way had he not had Gaius to shelter him.

At first Merlin had still thought of him as the little boy he once was and it turned his stomach to think that the kid was selling himself just to get by. But then he’d seen him, draped over a tavern table with some poor excuse for a knight fucking him right there, for everyone to see and jeer at.

He’d turned himself around on his heel and walked out, unable to look. Not because he was disgusted. Because he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man, admittedly a young one, but he’d grown tall and filled out in the years he’d been missing. And worse, he didn’t seem to be having a bad time of it. His cock had been hard and flushed, bouncing obscenely as he was thrust into, drawing Merlin’s gaze unavoidably. 

Merlin had to close his eyes, stop himself from walking straight back in and flinging the knight as far as he could throw him, just to take his place. This was worse than feeling revulsion. This was worse than anything he’d ever felt. He’d meant to _rescue_ the boy, return him back to safety and... and... oh, he couldn’t even remember now but he was sure his intentions had been honourable. 

But now he just wanted to feel that body for himself, feel another man beneath him for once. Was that so much to ask, that he just have a tiny taste before he deprived the whole world of such a gift? It was hypocritical, he knew, but... well, it wasn’t like he was the one forcing the boy to whore himself.

Merlin dragged his hand over his eyes, there was no way he could justify it. Not even to himself. Especially not to himself. He started walking, putting the place and what it contained behind him. He’d come back tomorrow, during the day, with a clear head.

He’d gotten five whole steps before he was forced to look back.

_Emrys..._

The voice crawled in his mind, seductive, smooth as silk.

_I know it’s you... I can **feel** you..._

Merlin clamped down his thoughts, like he was biting his tongue. He would not insult him by letting him see the depraved thoughts lining his mind.

_I know you saw me, don’t pretend you didn’t..._

Merlin sighed, screwing up every shred of decency he had in him to stop himself answering. He had come here to save him, not bed him.

_And I know you **liked** it..._

“Fuck,” Merlin swore aloud, not knowing if Mordred could hear him or not. He knew enough for it to not even matter anymore.

_I’m all alone now, if you’d like to keep me company..._

Merlin tried his damnedest to send back a wave of negativity but he knew in there somewhere, something inside him was screaming _yes_ so frantically that there was no way Mordred wouldn’t sense it.

_Upstairs. Third door on the right. You’ll be expected to pay..._

Merlin patted down his pockets, cursing himself. Was he really that desperate that he would pay for sex? It had been so long since he’d had any, Arthur’s marriage to Gwen had taken care of that. And there had been nobody else... not that he hadn’t tried. He’d tried his fucking heart out, trying it on with anyone who’d give him the time of day but he was too gangly, too odd looking, too much of a _friend_... too much of a _servant_. Everyone that way inclined wanted bigger, better, rougher, tougher and the girls wouldn’t bat an eyelash if you weren’t a _Sir_. He half considered asking Arthur for a knighthood just to improve his chances. But he had never in his life considered paying for it. Arthur didn’t pay him enough, for a start.

He pulled the last few coins he had to his name out into the open and squeezed them in his fist, heading back towards the door. He was here now. Mordred knew he was here. He may as well talk to him, that’s what he was here for, right?

When Merlin opened the door again, he half expected another whore to have taken Mordred's place as the entertainment but it seemed that show, at least, was over.

He didn't stop for a drink or to make eye contact with any other patron, still fairly appalled with the place and its clientele despite his own growing duplicity. He climbed the stairs, skipping some to get up there faster, telling himself he just wanted to get out from under the eyes of the drunken lechers below.

Counting two doors on the right, he knocked briskly on the third, the coins still clenched in his fist, biting into his skin painfully.

_Come..._

Merlin huffed to himself. He could have at least opened the door. Or invited him in loudly. He was getting funny looks from two girls draped over the door to the next room. Noticing him looking, one of the girls let go of the tie of her robe and it fell open, revealing nothing but skin.

"Are you sure you want him, darling? You can have both of us for what he charges."

Merlin could feel himself turning crimson, whether at her nudity or the implication that he was here for _that_ , he didn't quite know. He opened and closed Mordred's door quickly behind himself, unable to find the words to decline their offer. He’d gone three years and not so much as a quick fumble in the stables and suddenly, he had to beat them off with a stick. It was quite unsettling, really. It certainly drew into sharp relief that while one could pay for the good time, one couldn't buy a shred of honesty. They wanted the gold, not him. He'd have to keep that in mind if he was going to make it through the night unscathed. He could never forget that Mordred was one of them, for now. He wouldn’t find any warmth or compassion here, not in this cold place.

But to his surprise, he found himself enveloped in the boy before he'd barely laid eyes on him.

"Hello, Emrys,” Mordred said, hands clasping his shoulders and actually hugging him. _Hugging_ him, for crying out loud.

"Mordred..." Merlin said stiffly, patting him just as awkwardly on the back. "You can't call me that."

"But it's your name." Mordred pulled back, confusion clouding his face and oh Gods, what a face. His blue eyes had become piercing, seeing right into Merlin's soul, seeing this _Emrys_ he supposedly was. And his features, hard lines with soft edges, just the perfect balance. Then he smiled and Merlin felt every doubt he'd ever had about the boy go up in smoke. How could such a daunting child, one that had once filled him with such dread, smile like there was no wrong in the world.

"Merlin, then. It doesn't matter. " Mordred said quickly, obviously used to appeasing men. "I've had to hide who I really am too. As you can see."

"Come back with me then," Merlin offered impulsively. He could hardly believe what he was saying; he needed Mordred out of Camelot. As far away from Arthur as he could get him. Safe, sure, happy even but not in Camelot.

"No," Mordred declined sadly. "I'm not you, Emrys – Merlin – I can't walk into the kingdom and fall straight into a position of trust. It just wouldn't happen. Your king knows who I was, he won't have forgotten."

Merlin wanted to protest, say that Arthur was a good man, he wouldn’t execute someone on sight for their past but then... he didn’t want his argument to be to convincing in case it was taken up.

“Besides, what would I do? Warm the beds of Camelot.” Mordred’s lips quirked, a smile growing on them. “Or just your bed?”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Merlin objected, even as Mordred unfolded his fingers, revealing the coins he was clinging onto like his life depended on them.

“That’s why everyone’s here,” Mordred assured him, taking the coins and turning his back on Merlin for a second, no doubt biting them to be sure.

“Not me.” Merlin shook his head, reminding himself more than anything. “I came to help.”

Mordred placed the money on a dresser and turned back to him, an easy, warm smile on his face. “That’s funny, I didn’t have you down as the _knight in shining armour_ type.”

Merlin couldn’t help himself from rolling his eyes, trying not to think of the knight back downstairs sitting in the tavern. “You don’t need to be a knight to do good.”

“Nor does a knight have to be exclusively _good_. Not by your standards of good, at least, no man can live up to those.” Mordred paused, looking him up and down under his lashes, hiding something not so warm under a cute act. “Well, perhaps just the one.”

“Arthur knows nothing of this,” Merlin said quickly, determined that Arthur – moreover, his feelings for Arthur – wouldn’t get brought into this.

“I bet he doesn’t.” Mordred raised his eyebrows and smiled in a way that made Merlin feel completely naked. “Come on, sit. We have years to catch up on and what you’ve got barely bought you the hour.”

Mordred sat down on the bed, lying back and propping himself up on his elbow invitingly. Merlin crossed his arms to stop himself from following. “I just wanted to talk.”

“You’ve paid for your time, do what you want with it,” Mordred told him, eyes burning through him. “But nobody pays money to stand in the door way so sit. I don’t bite. That’s extra.”

Merlin blushed and looked down at the floor. He couldn’t trust himself to get on that bed and only _talk_ but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t drawn to the idea. Drawn like a moth to a flame.

As if reading his mind, a warm glow came over him, pulling him forward, making him take a few steps before he even realised it wasn’t him doing the walking. “Come on, Merlin, when was the last time you did what you wanted? What you really want?”

“Stop it,” Merlin said lowly because the absolute last thing he wanted was for Mordred to stop and he knew he wasn’t about to put an end to it himself.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never tried it,” Mordred enquired, still not moving from his bed but making Merlin feel like his hands were all over his body, grabbing possessively and caressing lightly all at once.

“I can make you come without laying a single finger on you, have you ever tried that?” Mordred boasted. “But I don’t want to. I want to touch you, Merlin, I want to feel you with my own two hands.”

Merlin let out a ragged breath, Mordred’s magic entwining with his own like they were already fucking. He could feel it all pulsing inside him, rushing south with his blood.

_Come on, Emrys, it’s unbecoming to make a whore beg for it..._

He was only a few steps away now and Mordred sat up, legs swinging off the bed so they rested either side of him, effectively trapping him with his body and his words. It would be nothing at all for him to reach out, start touching him, run his hand over that jaw and have it fall open for him, lips whetted and ready, begging to be used.

“I can see what you’re thinking,” Mordred said casually. “You should know that by now.”

Merlin clenched his jaw, forcing down every urge to just admit what he wanted. He couldn’t very well deny it any longer but he didn’t have to give in to it either. He could resist, even if his reasons why were dropping like flies in the heat.

“You want to talk, talk,” Mordred offered, reaching for the waist of Merlin’s trousers and getting them open. “I’ll still be listening. I’m a great at multitasking.”

Merlin searched for an answer to that. He couldn’t say _no, we won’t talk_ but he shouldn’t agree to Mordred’s terms either. But being too long in deliberating, the choice was made for him, Mordred’s hand wrapping around his cock and freeing it, undoing all of Merlin’s good work. The heat of his breath, his mouth, his tongue sliding under his cock, took just about every word out of his mind and halted them before they reached his throat.

He was a mess, he knew. His fists balled at his sides, knuckles white and nails biting into his palm, his cock straining for more while the rest of him tried to remember he was a grown man, he couldn’t be so easily distracted by... by...

 _My well trained, whore mouth..._ Mordred filled in helpfully. 

“No, that wasn’t...” Merlin couldn’t find the end of his sentence, he had almost said it wasn’t what he was going to say but he hadn’t really intended on saying any of it. And he couldn’t say it wasn’t what he was thinking because they would both know that for the lie it was.

Mordred raised his eyes, amused. _You don’t have to pretend, not with me..._

Merlin frowned, the conflicting feelings of pleasure and sadness knocking him off balance. He’d gotten so stuck on pretending, it almost wasn’t an act anymore. He cast the thought away but it was useless, Mordred could crack his mind open and see everything if he wanted to. So he closed his eyes, forcing himself the other way, to think about what was happening in the moment. The acceptance of Mordred’s touch made the boy smile, lips curving up around his cock as he took him in properly, only stopping when he had his face buried in Merlin’s skin, inhaling him and swallowing him down, making Merlin instinctively push forward, chasing more.

“Sorry,” Merlin said out of habit, pulling himself back again.

He heard a short warm laugh in his head before it fell silent again and he felt the golden haze wrap around him in vines, holding his hips like strong hands while spreading down like fingers to meet Mordred’s mouth, connecting them on a level that Merlin had never felt before, not even when using his own magic. And he'd never used his magic like _this_. When Mordred took him deep again, the spark passed through his whole body, evening out so that he could control himself while still feeling it perfectly.  
_So, why are you here?_ Mordred’s voice enquired in his head, echoing where every coherent thought had left it completely empty.

 _What?_ Merlin thought back, just about able to form the single work.

_Well, I’d be flattering myself to think you’d come half way across the kingdom just to fuck me..._

As if to underline his point, Mordred pulled back and brought his knee up, resting his elbow on it and propping up his chin on one hand while the other kept stroking up and down Merlin’s cock. He somehow made it look completely effortless while Merlin struggled to even stay focused on standing.

“Something brought you all this way and if Arthur doesn’t know...”

The implication that it was about magic, somehow, hung in the air between them and he felt Mordred’s power clinging to him more acutely. Merlin could feel his heart sinking, he’d planned this out so well and it was spiralling into chaos.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Merlin answered finally. “I came because I’d heard what had become of you but it seems you can... handle yourself.”

Mordred inclined his head, smiling at the turn of phrase but waiting patiently for something more substantial.

“I meant what I said, I didn’t come here to fuck you, or to even try,” Merlin promised, even though that wasn’t the admittance that Mordred wanted. “The thought didn’t even occur to me.”

Mordred’s easy smile slipped for a second and Merlin could feel the magic that was wrapped around him dim. He just couldn’t fucking win tonight.

“Until,” he continued despite his better judgement but he found himself unable to see him sad. “I saw you.”

“And now?” Mordred asked, his hand stilling completely like he’d forgotten what he was doing with it.

Merlin could feel the last shred of honour he had curl up and die. “And now I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

Mordred pushed himself back on the bed as Merlin turned away, Merlin’s own magic rising to the surface in bid for freedom, along with everything else he kept buried. 

“I came here wanting to do the right thing but I’m weak, alright?” Merlin pulled his jacket off, flinging it away from him. “Every time, when it comes to the crucial moment and I _know_ what I have to do with you. I know what needs doing. I do.” He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it down as well, turning in a circle so he was back facing Mordred who, taking the hint, was peeling off his own clothes as fast as he could. “And then you get in my head and under my skin and I fuck up. I know I’m doing it and I can’t stop.”

Merlin kicked his trousers and small clothes away and put his knee on the bed beside Mordred’s hip, his other knee landing the other side, straddling Mordred’s lap. Mordred still had his shirt hanging from one arm and his trousers were barely around his knees but Merlin caught his hands, halting any attempt to continue.

“The world might end one day because I can’t say no to you...” he said finally, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pushed Mordred down into the mattress and kissed him, his own magic seeping out and holding Mordred down for fear that if he moved now, he would come to his senses.

But Mordred didn’t move, he let Merlin hold him down and he kissed him back, taking all of Merlin’s frustration into himself and turning it into passion before he returned it to Merlin. When their lips parted, Merlin let go of Mordred’s hands, not giving himself a second to think except...

_You are going to fuck me and fuck me properly, until I can’t remember why this is such a catastrophically bad idea..._

Mordred nodded hurriedly, leaning to open a draw in the cabinet by his bed, producing a vial similar to the standard ones that lined the shelves back home. He took the bottle from Mordred’s hands, surprising him, and used it to coat his fingers.

“I can do that...”

Merlin shook his head, reaching behind himself to trail his fingers down the cleft of his arse, pushing two inside himself without hesitation.

_I know what I’m doing, trust me..._

“I can see that,” Mordred observed before shrugging, coating his own palm and then his cock in the almost honey-like syrup.

Merlin considered telling him about the three long years in which he’d lived with nobody’s touch but his own. Instead he forced himself to smile and mutter, “Well, practise does make perfect.”

Mordred laughed and made to rise, to assist him in some way perhaps but Merlin pressed his other hand to Mordred’s chest, pushing him down as he lifted his hips and straightened his back. After scissoring his fingers one last time, he pulled them free, reaching with them blindly to feel for Mordred’s cock, taking it from his grasp and positioning himself over it. The slide down seemed to take forever, from the second it breached him to the moment he couldn’t lower himself any further feeling like eons stretching out into the unknown. 

But he eventually found himself filled, the pressure of something more than his fingers after so long too overwhelming and for a second, he forgot to even move. The gentle rise of Mordred’s hips reminded him soon enough and he shook his head to clear it and to still Mordred, strengthening his hand on Mordred’s chest and channelling his magic down through them both to act as a restraint. He couldn’t explain it but he felt that perhaps if he steered the course, if he took control of it, he wouldn’t feel so guilty about what he was doing.

Mordred’s eyes, looking up at him all wide and full of wonder, halted that idea where it stood. He couldn’t forget what he was doing. Who he was doing it with. Just like he could never forget anything. The world wouldn’t let him. Swallowing down all the bad, he held onto that look and rolled his hips, pushing Mordred deeper inside him, clinging onto the good. He shifted himself forward, seeking out the spot inside him that would blot out everything and pushed himself down again, not quite managing it. He was good at least, Merlin told himself, a good person. He wouldn’t purely use Mordred and cast him aside, he wouldn’t hurt him or defile him in any way other than the carnal manner one might deflower a virgin and he was far from that. Merlin pitched himself forward again, resenting his body for not giving him an easy out. And Mordred, he couldn’t bring about Arthur’s ruin when he was looking so sweetly up at him, clutching at him like he was made of gold.

“Emrys,” Mordred moaned up at him, the word piercing Merlin’s thoughts like a religious exclamation, twisting all that was wrong about this and somehow making it sound _right_.

He should get up, he thought fleetingly, get up and leave. Never come back. But it hit, finally giving him what he needed and all he could do was follow his good intentions down. Now he’d found it, he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t leave him. He pulled back again, not rising, grinding down on the spot inside that took away every pain until he couldn’t take anymore, the pleasure inside him, Mordred’s magic lazily wrapped around him, his own trying to explode out of him with the force of it all. 

He felt himself come, without even a touch, seed spilling all over Mordred’s chest while he stared at it with a proud look. Like he’d never seen a man come before. Which was ludicrous, of course.

Merlin’s body ached from it, from his toes, curled, to his neck, head thrown back but he didn’t stop, he kept on, trying to wring out the same climax from Mordred, even though every movement was too much. He must have loosened his grip at some point because Mordred’s hands were suddenly lifting him and pushing him backwards.

“Stop, stop, you’re going to do yourself an injury if you keep on like that,” Mordred said breathlessly. “Trust me, I know.”

Merlin hung his head with a disheartened groan but he didn’t have the energy for a battle of wills. “I didn’t want to use you. I didn’t want to treat you like... like a whore.”

“Here,” Mordred said, sitting up and taking Merlin’s hand, placing it on his still wet cock. “Just as good.”

Merlin looked up at him with stern eyes, he knew for a fact that was a lie.

“From you, it’s just as good,” Mordred elaborated, the look, _that look_ , back in his eyes.

Merlin yielded, fingers curling to form a circle, enclosing Mordred’s cock in his fist and gliding over it, slowly at first, because his heart wasn’t in it but encouraged by Mordred’s shuddering breaths. He didn’t like to look inside Mordred’s head, he’d never willingly tried before but he couldn’t help himself, he needed to know that Mordred was alright. That this, all of this, this whole life, was what he wanted. Instead he hit a wall, grey stone with a hundred tiny cracks in it, new ones forming even as old ones healed themselves. Merlin turned away quickly, knowing even as Mordred’s hips bucked up into his hand, he would have felt him just as keenly in his mind as he did with his body.

When Mordred’s eyes fluttered closed and Merlin felt the first signs of release come over him, he was almost relieved. He cared about Mordred, he did, more than he would like to but seeing him like this hurt. Being with him like this had hollowed out a feeling worse than the ones he’d felt before. He knew he could spend long years drowning in Mordred’s devotion as easily as he could drown in his own guilt but neither of them would ever be honestly happy. Each of them would always be missing something vital.

Merlin closed his own eyes as he felt the pulse of Mordred’s cock, spilling himself over his chest, over the evidence of what Merlin had taken from him, given him in return. They fell silent together, the knowledge that this was it, the moment of weakness that could break them both.

Mordred looked up at him, opening his mouth to say something that he couldn’t get out in words. He swallowed and Merlin nodded, understanding.

_I can’t come with you..._

_I know..._

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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